


The Night We Met

by artificialcitrus



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, References to Depression, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 19:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13465083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificialcitrus/pseuds/artificialcitrus
Summary: a songfic loosely inspired by The Night We Met by Lord Huron (i recommend listening to the song while reading!)





	The Night We Met

It had been a cliche, really. They’d made eye contact across a crowded dance floor on a hot summer night, and she’d raised her glass to her with a nod. Sharon had been so beautiful, so full of life back then, with her dark hair curled around her face and her cheeks flushed with the heat and the alcohol she’d imbibed. She’d been soft and strong against Alaska, rolling her wide hips against Alaska’s own and pressing their bodies together as they danced together. They’d kissed on that dance floor; Alaska remembered the song that had been playing when their lips had met, and she could never shake the feeling of that night when she heard the song playing somewhere else.

They’d taken a taxi to Sharon’s apartment, kissing in the backseat of the cab and the elevator and the hallway. Alaska’s dress had fallen to Sharon’s floor, soon forgotten as Sharon led her to bed and kissed her until she saw stars. Their bodies had been warm and yielding against the soft sheets of Sharon’s bed, and Alaska remembered in perfect detail just how sweetly Sharon had made love to her.

Even with alcohol running through their veins and desire tugging at their bodies, they were gentle together. They’d moved with passion and care, Sharon’s fingertips skating along Alaska’s skin as their mouths met again and again. They had been in love from that first night together, they would both agree later; never in their lives had either of them felt anything as strongly as they had that night.

Waking up had felt surreal, with sunlight filtering in through the window and falling on blonde and black hair on the pillows. Sharon’s arm was around Alaska’s waist, her breath warm on the back of her neck, and Alaska had smiled as she remembered the night before and the passion and pleasure they’d shared. They’d made coffee, and Sharon had offered Alaska an oversized t-shirt that she wore as she made breakfast for them both. Sharon had kissed her across the table, and again when they were getting dressed, and once more before Alaska left to go home.

Falling into a relationship had been easy. They’d gone on dates to museums and restaurants and parks, and within a month of their meeting they’d made it official. Alaska had shown off her girlfriend whenever possible, so proud of how beautiful and talented and smart she was. Sharon’s handful of friends told her how good Alaska was for her, how happy they looked together, how wonderful it was that Sharon was in a healthy relationship again.

They were right, too. Sharon was, for the first time in a long while, truly happy. Being with Alaska made her perfectly, blissfully happy, and even though she didn’t have the courage to tell her that, it was clear that Alaska knew. Sharon was hard and guarded, she’d built up walls to keep people from hurting her, but with Alaska those walls fell like Jericho at the sound of the trumpet. The metaphorical trumpet in her case was the crushing realization that someone loved her, _really_ loved her, accepted all of her flaws and didn’t think of them as flaws at all.

Alaska had patched Sharon up, and in return, Sharon had raised Alaska to heights she’d never thought she could reach. Sharon was supportive of her passions, cheered her on when she did well, and comforted her when she failed. She gave Alaska a home to come back to, time and time again, and eventually they decided that if they were the other’s home, they may as well share a house, too.

The house they picked had been symbolic of so many things. It was proof of their hard work, and proof of their love. They decorated the walls with paintings and put fresh flowers in every room, painted the outside in the summer heat and collapsed in their newly-purchased bed covered in sweat and paint. They cooked together, Sharon humming something to herself as she reached over Alaska’s arm to grab a bowl of something or other, and cleaned up afterwards, flicking water at one another and laughing. Sharon proposed to Alaska in their garden, and they got married in spring.

Still, life took its toll on them both. Sharon was trapped in a contract that wouldn’t run out for another year, and her boss overworked her. She couldn’t quit, not while they had bills to pay, so she worked late, insisting that her overtime pay was worth the bags under her eyes. “Just one more year,” she’d say when Alaska begged her to quit, “One more year, and then I can find something better.” But a year was a long time, and it showed.

First it began to show in Sharon’s eyes. They grew dull, even when she laughed, and they spoke volumes about her mental state. She turned to drinking in the evenings, just to relax, but it turned into day drinking to drown out her abusive boss. Drinking turned into a little pot here and there, and then a little coke. Alaska didn’t know, Alaska could never find out, and she was in control, she could stop whenever she wanted to. But when she wanted to stop, her body screamed out for the crutches she’d been leaning on, and more often then not she would wake Alaska with her trembling, only to insist that it was because of a nightmare.

Alaska watched her wife’s physical and mental health deteriorate, helpless to stop it. Sharon slept less, ate less, smiled less; she lost so much weight that she was almost unrecognizable. Her hands shook almost constantly from a combination of nerves and withdrawal. She worked a hellish nightmare of a schedule, and though she tried to hide it, Alaska heard her crying more times than she could count. “Please, Sharon, quit this job!” Alaska would beg, “Can’t you see it’s killing you?”

Sharon would shake her head and promise that she only had a few months left. But when she was free of her contract, things didn’t return to normal, at least not as quickly as she’d promised Alaska they would. She loved her new job, threw herself into it with passion, but the damage was already done. She was healing mentally, but physically she wasn’t equipped to make such an abrupt change in her lifestyle. Alaska remembered the exact moment she got the call from the hospital, informing her that her wife had collapsed at work and was in the ICU.

Nothing had scared Alaska more than that. She’d never experienced anything more terrifying than being told that her wife was unconscious in the hospital, and she’d nearly secured a speeding ticket in her rush to get to to her. Sharon had been fine, really, just malnourished and overworked, and Alaska insisted that she take a month off from her new job in order to heal. Sharon had vehemently refused at first, but when she saw the tears in her wife’s eyes and the way her shoulders shook, she had to agree. She called her boss to explain the situation, who was more than happy to let her recuperate and come back when she was ready. Alaska took a month off from work as well in order to make sure that Sharon was getting better.

Sharon signed up for therapy, and little by little, Alaska watched her condition improve. She came home with life in her eyes again, and her therapist started her on medication that both helped her depression and aided in bringing back her appetite. She helped her wife cook again, cleaned rooms when the energy felt stale, and began bringing home flowers again. Alaska attended therapy of her own, and sometimes they went as a couple; it helped both of them, and they slowly became better communicators because of it. Sharon opened up to her wife about her history of addiction and her relapse, and Alaska cried in her arms at the thought of losing her. She promised to get better at communicating about her anxiety and her triggers, and Sharon just took her hand and vowed to help her overcome it.

The closest they’d ever been to the breaking point was a recurring argument about children. Alaska had pled with Sharon that they should try for a baby, but Sharon denied her every time she asked, dismissing her attempts to rekindle the conversation. It hurt her wife deeply and she knew it, she saw the way Alaska’s eyes would well up with tears and her hands clenched into fists, but she just couldn’t give her what she wanted. The truth was that Sharon didn’t trust herself to raise a child; she was volatile and emotional, she lashed out when she was scared. And the thought of messing up so badly as parent truly terrified her, so she lashed out.

“For the last time, Alaska, we’re not discussing this!” Alaska had opened her mouth to respond, but flinched when Sharon slammed her beer bottle down on the kitchen counter.

“ _Why,_ Sharon? Why won’t you listen to me? I just want to _talk_ about it!”

“And I don’t. God, Alaska, if you wanted a family so badly, you shouldn’t have ever come near me!”

“Why are you so scared?” Alaska said roughly, tears making her voice thick.

“I am not _scared,_ ” Sharon hissed, hands shaking as she gripped the bottle in her hands too tightly. 

“You _are_ scared, Sharon, you’re scared that you’ll fuck up. Isn’t that it? You’re _terrified_ that you’ll be a horrible parent, just like your parents were! Don’t lie to me and say that you’re not scared, because you _are._

She was right, and they both knew it, but Sharon couldn’t handle Alaska’s accusation. It was spot-on-- she wouldn’t expect anything less from her perceptive wife-- and as soon as she’d said it she covered her mouth with both hands like covering her mouth could take it back. Alaska opened her mouth to apologize, to suggest that they both take a moment to breathe before talking it out rationally, but Sharon shook her head. Her eyes were hot with tears that she refused to let Alaska see, so instead she cursed loudly and let the bottle in her hands fall to the floor, storming out.

Alaska swept up the glass with shaking hands, trying her best to ignore the sound of Sharon grabbing her keys and walking out. As soon as the front door slammed shut, Alaska let herself break down, dumping the last of the glass into the trash before sinking to her knees on the cold kitchen tiles and dissolving into tears.

When she’d cried so much that she couldn’t cry anymore, she made herself a cup of tea-- her mother’s favorite remedy for just about any ailment-- and sat in the living room, flipping through the scrapbook they’d made together at the six-month mark in their relationship. Pictures of Sharon that Alaska had taken sneakily on her phone and printed out, selfies of the both of them, pictures and drawings of Alaska caught in moments where she was peaceful. The photos they’d posted on Instagram and Facebook after Sharon had proposed: one of the ring on Alaska’s hand, her fingers entwined with Sharon’s, and one of them with their arms around each other, kissing.

There were pictures from their wedding in the book, photographs of Alaska in her fluffy, princess-like dress and of Sharon in her form-fitted lace gown. Pictures of them during the ceremony, during their vows, their first kiss as a married couple, and dozens of photos from the reception. The last picture was one that one of Alaska’s friends had snapped of them in secret and gifted to them at the wedding, a photo of Sharon and Alaska pressed together on the dancefloor, unaware of everything else around them.

Alaska couldn’t stop the flow of her tears once more, and she looked up to see Sharon crouching in front of her, her face streaked with tears and mascara. Alaska hadn’t even heard her come back, but as soon as Sharon opened her arms, her wife propelled herself into them, holding her tight as they both cried.

“I’m scared, Lasky, I’m so fucking scared. I’m scared that I won’t be enough for you, let alone for a baby, and I’m scared I’ll mess everything up,” Sharon whispered, stroking her wife’s long blonde hair. “I’m fucking terrified, but I love you more than anything in the world, and I wanna build a family with you.” Alaska looked up at her, awestruck.

“Really?” she whispered. Sharon nodded, laughing through her tears.

“Really,” she insisted, holding Alaska tighter. “I’ve been dreaming about that kind of life since the moment I laid eyes on you in that dingy club. About _this_ kind of life.”

“I love you,” Alaska breathed. Sharon echoed her, kissing her deeply and taking her to bed. She reassured Alaska of her love as they moved together, two bodies becoming one as they had so many times before. Everything would be okay, Sharon promised her wife, and she always made good on her promises. 


End file.
